


Through the Lens of Another

by thalialunacy



Category: Star Trek RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-08
Updated: 2010-02-08
Packaged: 2017-10-26 16:34:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/285477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thalialunacy/pseuds/thalialunacy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Karl is possessive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through the Lens of Another

**Author's Note:**

> **Summary** : Chris wonders why Karl keeps disappearing on him.  
>  **Notes** : Blame this on [this picture](http://pics.livejournal.com/thalialunacy/pic/002y01xr) and sangueuk, who is seriously, _seriously_ an enabler. :P Oh and a couple things are mutated from _When Harry Met Sally..._

So suddenly, there's this thing Chris can't figure out about Karl. They've been friends for four years, which is like, eighteen in Hollywood years, and the normally easy-going, love everybody, here-let-me-charm-you-with-my-geekiness Kiwi has suddenly developed a habit of skipping out of a room several times a night. Chris will get involved in a conversation, then think of something Karl'd said or Karl would like to hear and look up and poof. No Karl.

One night, at some post-something-party or another, he asks John, who gives him an incredulous look then clasps him on the shoulder with a sigh and brings him close, like he's going to share a huge piece of wisdom to his much-dumber compatriot. "He just got a divorce, you idiot. Of course he's not feeling like Mr Partypants." Chris winces, feeling like A-grade fool, but John continues thoughtfully. "And where he's from, that would mean Mr Party-Underwear. Which is probably even _more_ apropos."

Chris snorts and pushes away from him. "Sure, thanks. See you." John waves him off and goes back to whatever it was he'd been doing before.

Chris finds Karl smoking in one of the gardens. "Urban," he announces his presence quietly. "You all right?"

Karl looks surprised. "Yeah, course I'm all right. Why?"

Chris blinks, then reaches for his own smokes and occupies himself with lighting one. "I dunno, you've been kind of… in and out of parties recently, and I thought it might be… might be because of…things." He licks his lips. "Things with Nat."

Karl smokes in silence for a moment, then inclines his chin. "Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah, but I'm all right. I'm not about to kick up a fuss or anything."

Chris chuckles. "Damn, 'cause that might make this party more exciting."

But in the next few weeks, next month, Karl is clearly doing better, all around, yet he's still pulling these disappearing acts. So during Chris' next Microbrew & Indie Movies night with Zach, he brings it up.

He brings it up, and Zach gives him that look, that 'I can't believe you are actually this stupid' look.

"Christopher."

"Yes."

"How long has he been divorced?"

"Uh… a while."

"Correct."

"And?"

"And oh my lord you are an idiot." He sits down across from Chris and faces him, locking eyes and making sure he has Chris' attention. "If you were older, and had just gotten out of a marriage, and wanted in the pants of a younger costar, you wouldn't think you could just jump on them, now, would you?"

Chris cocks an eyebrow. "Karl Urban does not want in my pants, Zach, but thanks."

Zach cocks an eyebrow right back and won't back down. It's like a duel. They have these duels relatively frequently, which is odd considering their mutual hard-on for the English language, but not odd when considering the eyebrows involved.

Zach breaks first this time. "Have you ever seen pictures of Karl and Natalie?"

Chris shrugs. "Sure."

"No, no, clearly you haven't. Or you wouldn't even be here with me, you'd be off with Karl the wunderschlong."

"Oh for fuck's sake, will you stop mis-quoting movies and please just get to the fucking point? My game is Scrabble, not Clue."

"Fine. I'll make it as simple as possible."

He gets up and fetches his laptop. Chris groans but he holds up a hand. "You'll appreciate this, it's a picture book." He clicks a few things, rummages around digitally for a moment, then beckons Chris over. "Look."

Chris does. It's a picture of Karl and Natalie walking, Karl's hand firmly holding hers. "Okay, so?"

Zach tsks and clicks another button. "Again."

Chris looks again, and this one is them sitting, Karl turned in towards her and looking hard enough at the camera to make it clear they're together.

"Again: okay, so?"

"He's a little possessive, no?"

Chris' brows come together. "That's just two pictures, Zach, I really—"

"Mmhmm." And Zach clicks again and suddenly there are like a dozen more, most of which Chris recognizes vaguely from Karl's Facebook, which he mostly has set up for his kids so it's natural that they're all lovey-dovey pictures, but…

"Okay so you have a point. But only one point."

"Well, now, you see, I can reveal my ace."

"Oh, good, so instead of movie quotes, it's card metaphors."

"Shut up and look."

Chris grumbles but looks— at pictures of himself and Karl. "Zach, what the fuck—"

"Look hard, Christopher. Look at his hands. Look at how he's tilted towards you. Look at that positively _alpha_ look on his face."

He keeps talking, but Chris is only half listening.

Because he's absofuckinglutely _right_.

"And gosh, he's just so dreamy," he hears Zach finish, and glances up to see his smirk. "How much have you had to drink?"

"Just a couple! What the fuck—Why?"

Zach stands up and throws his wallet and keys at him. "Get the hell over there."

Chris catches his things automatically but balks. "Hey, I don't even really like guys! Haven't tried that shit since college, and now I’m just supposed to give it a spin because it's—"

He stops short.

Zach's smirk is turned up to eleven. "Because it's Karl motherfucking Urban, Pine, and he would turn George Clooney queer in five seconds if he looked at him like I've seen him look at you."

Chris' mouth drops open at the jolt he gets from that, but he can't resist a jab. "George Clooney looks at me?"

Zach rolls his eyes and pushes him out the door. "Get thee gone!" Chris stumbles to his car, his brain whizzing and his body all thumpy with nerves and revelation. "And call me tomorrow!" Zach yells out before closing the door with a decided snap.

"Right," Chris mutters as he gets his car and tries to remember how to turn it on. "Tomorrow."

He's most of the way to Karl's place before he realizes that he's not expected. He curses loudly and pulls out his Bluetooth. His breath feels stabby in his lungs as he listens to it ring.

"Hey there."

"Hey, man, how are you?" He winces at the lame sound of that.

"Fine… What's up?"

"I was just—" He has to clear his throat like he's fucking twelve. "I was just wondering if I could come see you for a second. If you were home, I mean, and if you were then I was going to see if I could—"

"Sure, I'm home, yeah. Come on over."

"You are? You're home. Okay. Yeah I'll be there in—" He grimaces. "About five minutes."

Karl chuckles. "Alright then. See you in a bit."

"Yeah. Bye."

The walk up the steps is simultaneously the longest and shortest he's ever had in his whole fucking life.

…but then Karl's there at the top, holding the door open and smiling one of his goofy smiles, and Chris' heart basically kicks out of his chest. Kicks him in the head, for sure.

 _Took you long enough, fucking idiot_ , it says to him. In a voice sounding strangely like a combination of Zach and his sister.

He shakes that off and follows Karl inside. But he doesn't let Karl get too far before stopping him, knowing it's now or never. "Listen…"

Karl turns to him, his face open, expectant. Accepting. Like always.

"Yeah, see, Zach—" He runs a hand over his jaw, steps closer. "Zach has this theory."

"Oh? What sort?"

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and steps even closer. "Oh, a crazy one. Batshit."

"And he's such a sane boy, Zach is. Come on, just what is it?"

"It's—" He swallows. He's almost there, close enough to feel the heat emanating off Karl, close enough that he just has to— "He thinks that you— that you might—want—" And he just leans forward and does it. He touches his lips to Karl's, lightly but lingeringly, then stays there, stays close, because he's too fucking cowardly to actually back up and see the look on Karl's face—

But then hands are gripping his shoulders, keeping him where he is. Warm breath ghosts across his lips. "You're not taking the piss?"

Chris makes a strangled noise. "Fuck, Karl, I come all the way here, and make an idiot of myself, and you—"

Suddenly he's being kissed like he's got five minutes left to live— Karl's holding him by the back of the neck, Karl's pressing his lips hard against Chris's and plunging in unhesitatingly with his tongue to divide and conquer, Karl's wrenching these grunty, throaty sounds out of him.

"…you kiss the living shit out of me. Okay." He leans into Karl for balance, touching foreheads, and tries to remember how to speak. He pulls back after a bit and searches his eyes. "So we're clear that nobody's taking any sort of piss here?"

Karl gives him another kiss, gentler and more lingering this time. "I'm most certainly not," he says quietly.

"Sweet. Good. Because I know this probably seems fast, but—"

"In the grand scheme of things, this has been bloody slow, really."

"—yeah that's what I was thinking, so could we just—"

But Karl's already tugging him towards the bedroom. He grins.

"Excellent."

And it's been a while with the manly bits, but the rest of it is familiar—and ten times better, actually, Chris thinks once he's got Karl naked and on top of him, careful, long fingers taking catalogue of his whole body. He catches Karl's gaze on him and smiles. "Like what you see?"

Karl regards him intently. "Very much so, yes."

Chris reaches up and touches his jaw, those fucking lips. "Good."

Karl continues to watch his face as he warms up some lube between his palms, then his hands start assessing the pertinent bits. Chris sucks in a breath as warm fingers surround the base of his cock and tug upwards once, twice.

"Chris…"

"Yeah?" His voice is low and breathy but he can't bring himself to give a fuck.

Karl doesn't answer for a minute. His fingers find Chris' entrance instead, circling warmly until one pushes in gently. "Fuck," Chris hisses, reaching up to grab Karl's face and pull him down for a kiss.

Karl kisses him back, hungrily, then there's two fingers and Chris' gasp breaks the kiss apart. Karl holds him close and fucks him with his hands until he's a writhing mess—then, just as he's nudging himself between Chris' legs and inside, he leans close to Chris' ear.

"I don't share," he growls. Then he thrusts home.

Chris full-on cries out, clutching at Karl's shoulders. Then he forces his eyes open, forces himself to focus on Karl's face. He's fucking gorgeous, sweaty and concentrating and putting his back into it for sure, and Chris thinks yeah, this could be okay for a very, very long time.

"I know," he says hoarsely. "I knew when I showed up here."

Karl searches his face. "And yet you're here."

Chris grins and kisses him, thoroughly. "Yup, I'm here." Then he hooks his ankles together behind Karl's shoulders and lifts up. Karl grunts in surprise and thrusts reflexively, and shit yeah, that was good for everyone involved. And it starts them on a rhythm.

Karl, as Chris hadn't admitted to himself he'd been expecting, is of course fucking great at this. He fucks Chris steadily, but adjusts when needed, changes it up when needed, and drops kisses on him rather frequently, which orally-fixated Chris will readily admit he enjoys. And soon but not too soon Karl shifts so he can fist Chris' cock, and way too soon after that Chris is seeing stars as his orgasm roars through him. He forces his eyes to stay open, though, and is rewarded by the fucking amazing look on Karl's face when he comes soon after.

"Shit," he breathes into Karl's neck where they've slumped together, sticky and sweaty and sated. "That was fucking awesome."

Karl chuckles into his skin. "Ten from the American judge."

Chris laughs outright, then tightens his grip. "Ten from the _only_ judge."

Karl lifts his head and looks up at him. "Yeah," he says quietly, a soft smile on his face. "I know."

\---

And a couple days later, Chris finds out exactly why Karl'd been running away at all those parties.

He's in the middle of a perfectly good conversation with some sort of random, sort of drunk A-listers about Nietzsche and Wagner when he feels the hand on the small of his back. Then the voice growls in his ear in that tangy accent: "Outside. Now."

So he fucking goes. Only, Karl leads him straight through the garden and up the staircase on the other side, through a few rooms to this tiny, clearly unused sun room. He locks the door behind them and without so much as a how d'you do Chris finds himself pushed up against it.

Karl's breath is hot against his lips but he wastes no time with words, just buries him in kisses, rough kisses that make his jaw ache and his head spin.

Then he begins raining kisses and bites along Chris' neck while his hands unfasten his pants and push inside. Chris swears and grabs at Karl for balance. "What's this about?—not that I'm—" Karl's teeth hit a particular spot. "Fuck!—complaining, but—"

Karl's head comes up, and Chris' train of thought completely derails at the hot, hungry, _possessive_ look in his eyes. Not to mention the hand squeezing at his cock _just_ right, roughly but oh so fucking expertly.

"That man you were talking with?" he says quietly. Chris blinks, trying to remember but unable to give enough of a damn. "He wanted you."

Chris almost laughs. "He did not." Karl cocks an eyebrow and increases his pace. "Fuck! Really? You— Oh god, _yes_ — You think so?"

"I'd bet money on it, yes." Karl nips at his jaw, his bottom lip. "He wanted to be right here, where I am, watching you come apart in my arms."

Chris' breath is starting to sound a whole lot more like panting, now, and the urge to keen and grab at Karl and tell him all sorts of ridiculous things is hard to fight off—

Fuck it.

He forces Karl's lips to his. "Only you," he says roughly in between kisses. "Fuck, only yours—oh God, coming—"

Karl rides it out with him, moving his lips softly over his cheeks and eyebrows and earlobe. Then he's pulling out a handkerchief and wiping them up, and his movements are so gentle that Chris catches his chin in his hand and looks him in the eye.

His eyes are dark, and huge, and so full, and when he kisses Chris next it's incredibly tender, and the contrast is so exquisite that an ache blooms in Chris's chest.

He breaks the kiss and puts a hand on Karl's chest to push him a little ways away from the wall. Karl steps back, assuming they're leaving, but Chris stops him. He grins a little and steps forward, palming Karl through his trousers. "They look at you, too, you know," he murmurs. "They all wish they could have this. Get to do things like this." And he drops to his knees.

Karl grunts his name and something that sounds suspiciously like a curse word, grabbing at Chris' head and cupping his neck as Chris deftly unearths his cock and swallows it down. "Oh, Jesus, you are way too—" He sucks in a breath as Chris palms his balls. "—good at this. Fuck…" He slides a hand along Chris' scalp, nails scratching just enough to make Chris groan.

He looks up and sees Karl's eyes steady on him, his lips parted and his breath hitching, and the sight is so gorgeous he can't stand it. He goes to town, licking and sucking and letting his oral inclinations work for him, using his lips and his tongue and his hands and his throat until Karl is a mess, until that solid countenance has broken apart and Karl is coming so hard he shakes and shouts with the force of it.

Chris follows through, swallowing then cleaning up gently with his tongue until Karl drags him back up to his feet. "Chris…"

Chris just smiles. "I know." He kisses him, allowing him to access his own taste and eliciting a pleased rumble. "I think we should go to parties as often as possible from now on."

Karl growls at him, but a smile breaks across his face anyways. "I think I could get used to it, yeah." His lips meet Chris' one more time, then he reaches around to unlock the door. "Shall we?"

Chris nods. And as they make their way back across the garden and into the main room, he knows the grin on his face must be of nuclear wattage. Zach will probably tell him later he might as well've had a sign on his face that said 'PROPERTY OF KARL URBAN.'

And he is so, _so_ okay with it.

 _  
**FIN**   
_


End file.
